


Luck of the Golden Arrow

by ttacticianmagician



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Claudeleth if you squint, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Humor, spoilers for claude's backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ttacticianmagician/pseuds/ttacticianmagician
Summary: By the time Claude turned 17, he grew weary of fearing for his life at what was supposed to be a celebration of his life. So on his 18th birthday, all he desired was a nice, quiet day with no fuss around him. Such a wish was actually easier done than said for once, because Garreg Mach was in an uproar over the presumed assassination plot that would take place in two days' time.Unfortunately, he hadn’t accounted for one very important factor."Happy birthday, Claude." Byleth stated as she dropped a wrapped package on his desk."WHAAAAT?!" Hilda screeched into Claude's ears, causing him and everyone else to wince. "Mister Claude von Riegan, you never said that today was your birthday!"---Claude's birthdays have always been memorable, sometimes for the wrong reasons. Despite his efforts, his 18th and 24th birthday aren't any exceptions.
Relationships: Golden Deer Students & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 88





	1. 24th of the Blue Sea Moon, Imperial Year 1180

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever post birthday fics on time? Probably not lmao.
> 
> Anyway happy (belated) birthday to Claude! He holds a special place in my heart, since I played his route first and married him first. So I had to type something for him, even if it's a day late. And then this ended up being a two-parter because I love him that much. In case you haven't figured it out yet, the second chapter takes place post-timeskip, so that's where the plot spoilers will start.

Even though Claude was all for throwing parties, he never really liked birthday parties for himself.

Sure, they were fun at first. No one threw birthday parties like Almyrans. Their warrior culture meant that every year of survival was a year worth celebrating, because you might not get another birthday next time. And being the king's son meant that Claude's birthdays were especially lavish. Beautiful dancers flashed both swords and sun-kissed skin as they paraded around the party. The finest musicians from all over Almyra played loud and vivacious tunes that could rouse the dead. The royal chefs prepared a giant, colorful, mouthwatering feast consisting of all of Claude's favorite dishes. Stuffy nobles and decorated generals alike flattered the guest of honor with honeyed words and pats on the back, as if they never cursed his name during the other days of the years.

Oh, and there were assassins. Claude couldn't forget the assassins. Their methods ranged from subtle (like sabotaged birthday presents) to bold (like outright declarations of violence in public), but none of them ever succeeded. In fact, if any of them were caught red-handed, Claude's father would arrange for their execution that very night, as a sort of a capstone to the party. Claude himself was disquieted by using someone's death as a spectacle, but the rowdy cheers of everyone else around him drowned out his unease.

One would think that after so many assassination attempts, Claude's father would stop holding enormous parties and inviting everyone in Almyra to them. But they continued, undeterred by the rude interruptions. By the time Claude turned 17, he grew weary of fearing for his life at what was supposed to be a celebration of his life. So on his 18th birthday, all he desired was a nice, quiet day with no fuss around him. Such a wish was actually easier done than said for once, because Garreg Mach was in an uproar over the presumed assassination plot that would take place in two days' time.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t accounted for one very important factor.

"Happy birthday, Claude." Byleth stated as she dropped a wrapped package on his desk.

"WHAAAAT?!" Hilda screeched into Claude's ears, causing him and everyone else to wince. "Mister Claude von Riegan, you never said that today was your birthday!"

"You never asked." Despite his aching eardrums, Claude shot Hilda a cheeky wink. The real reason why he hadn’t mentioned his date of birth to anyone was because he didn’t want any parties thrown for his sake. And he might have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for his meddling professor. Seriously, how did she know today was his birthday when he never told her?

He got his answer soon enough. Ignatz glanced at Byleth with an incredulous expression. “Wait, if even Hilda didn’t know, how did you know it was Claude’s birthday today, Professor?”

“It’s listed in the class roster.” She replied simply, only to be interrupted by more shouts from Hilda.

“That still doesn’t mean you gotta keep it from us!” Hilda pouted. “Don’t you want a big party with lots of food and presents and singing?!”

“Now that you mention it, yeah. A party sounds nice. I could do without the singing though.” Claude leaned back in his chair and smirked. 

That lackadaisical display deeped Hilda’s pout. “Ugh! You’re completely incorrigible, Claude! How is everyone supposed to put together something at the last minute? I might even have to get involved! Thanks a lot pal!” 

“You’re welcome.” Claude winked again, infuriating her even more.

“Claude, I do have to agree with Hilda.” Lorenz’s nasally voice ruined Claude’s good mood. “Withholding such vital information is not becoming of a man your status. Why, how will the lords of the roundtable ever learn to trust you if you never deign to reveal something as benign as a birthday?”

“Lorenz, buddy, you do know that the great leaders of the Alliance gather at the roundtable to discuss serious matters like taxes and warfare, right? It’s not a party planning committee.”

“And it would also benefit you to be less flippant when I offer sound advice!”

“Advice, huh?” Claude raised an eyebrow. “You know what? If you think so highly of the Derdriu roundtable, let’s hold our own right now. We have the future heirs of the five great houses gathered here, after all.”

He straightened himself up to make sure his question reached all corners of the Golden Deer classroom. “Do you guys side with the esteemed Lorenz Hellman Gloucester and think I should’ve revealed my birthday? Or is he just blowing hot air again?”

His green eyes shifted to two women behind him. He already knew what Hilda and Lorenz were going to say, so now he silently asked for the opinions of Marianne and Lysithea. The former shriveled up under his stare while the latter had the opposite reaction, sitting up straight and staring back unerringly.

“You’re a jerk, Claude! I can’t believe you didn’t tell any of us about your birthday! Don’t you care about the party, the food, the presents, or maybe even the simple fact that you lasted another year?!”

Claude frowned. Somehow, he struck a nerve with the youngest Golden Deer, and he wasn’t sure how to calm her down. Truthfully, he was grateful that he survived another year, and a monumental one at that. Since his last birthday, he moved to Fodlan, changed his name, joined the upper echelons of the Leicester Alliance, and enrolled in the Officer’s Academy. Claude had done a lot for the sake of his lofty, almost unreachable dream. And he was going to need all the birthdays he could get to keep climbing towards that goal.

Of course, he couldn’t divulge any of that to soothe Lysithea’s nerves. Thankfully, he didn’t have to, because the remaining Golden Deer decided to butt in before a response was required.

“Hey, don’t us non-noble folks get a say in this too?” Leonie shouted.

“It depends.” Claude flashed her a quick smile. “Is it going to affect the outcome?”

“Uh, yeah! Because I think you’re a jerk too!” Leonie crossed her arms across her chest. “Don’t you trust us? It’s not like we’re going to stab you at your birthday party or anything!”

Claude laughed inwardly at a joke he kept to himself. “I trust you guys enough to know you wouldn’t do that. But I would’ve told you my birthday if you’d asked.”

“Really?” The outspoken woman narrowed her orange eyes.

Actually, Claude wasn’t sure if he would’ve remained elusive about his birthday when confronted, but since the jig was up, he had to say otherwise. “Yeah. Like Lorenz said, it’s a harmless fact. And if I knew that you guys thought I was deceiving you, I would have mentioned it earlier.”

“Uh, I’m sure you had good reasons for not revealing your birthday.” Ignatz chimed in. “But it still would’ve been nice to know it was your birthday sooner, just so we could prepare something adequate …”

“Yeah! But don’t worry! I’m sure with everyone working together, we’ll put together a great party! With lots of food!” Raphael pumped a fist into the air.

“Hey, thanks.” Claude chuckled at the big guy’s enthusiasm, and at his naive assumption that everyone would work together for the sake of a birthday party. The Golden Deer House consisted of so many clashing personalities, he was surprised that they had each other's backs in the battlefield. He supposed he had Teach to thank for that.

Speaking of whom, his attention was drawn back to the present on his desk. Its long and curved shape was unmistakable to someone who grew up with a bow in his hand. And even if he wasn’t an experienced archer, a pointy end that tore through the wrapping paper gave away the surprise.

Now the question was what kind of bow was it? Claude lifted it up to judge its weight. It was actually fairly light for a bow its size, which made him all the more eager to unveil it.

“Hey Teach. Can I open this up right now?” He glanced up at Byleth.

She gave him a brief nod in return. “Of course. It’s your birthday.”

“Thanks!” He mentioned before digging into the wrapping. A few seconds and a shower of shredded paper later, Claude held up a Killer Bow with an oversized grin on his face.

“Awesome! I’ve always wanted one of these!” Claude exclaimed, and that was actually true this time. Killer Bows of this caliber were hard to find in weapon stores, and those that did get put up for sale tended to get snatched up very quickly. Maybe if he tried a little harder, he could have bought one with his Riegan connections, but he didn’t feel like it was worth the effort.

But now, Teach put in the effort for him. Claude stood up to try it out (and to show off a bit). He pulled the bowstring taut and let it loose. From how smooth its surface was, how detailed its metal adornments were, and how it flexed in his hands, he could tell that it wasn’t an ordinary Killer Bow. This beautiful weapon had been reforged to perfection. With this baby, any arrow he fired would become a death sentence for any foe that crossed his path during a fight.

“I’m glad you like it.” Byleth replied as stoically as ever. “There’s a matching quiver included too. Be sure to take it with you.”

Claude was honestly too enthralled with his new gift to care about her monotone reaction. While he continued testing his new bow, he pretended not to hear some whispers behind him.

“Oh shit. How are we supposed to match the Professor’s gift?” He was pretty sure that was Leonie panicking.

“Um, I don’t think we can.” Ignatz muttered with a sigh afterwards.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t try!” Raphael whispered not-so-softly. “I bet Claude would be happy to get any gifts if they’re from his friends!”

There was a pause as the others digested his words. Then, Lorenz’s drawl. “How very… endearingly optimistic of you.”

“Yeah. The problem is that pretty words aren’t going to help any of us.” Claude heard the sound of a chair being pushed backwards and books being shoved into a bag. “I’m heading out to find the perfect gift. I suggest that everyone else does the same, or else this birthday will be a disaster!”

Claude turned around just in time to see Lysithea’s white hair heading out the door. Then he caught glimpses of uncertain expressions among the remaining Golden Deer that wondered if their house leader overheard everything that transpired.

“Well! It wouldn’t be much of a party if you knew everything that was going to happen!” Hilda laughed sheepishly. She stood up and started packing her things. “Come on, guys! Let’s plan this out where our birthday boy can’t hear us!”

The others murmured in agreement and followed Hilda outside. They must have gotten really flustered if they didn’t mind leaving Claude alone with the professor. The two of them stood in awkward silence for a moment before Claude chuckled under his breath and gathered up his books.

“Well, Teach. As much as I’d love to have some private tutoring sessions with you, the training grounds are calling my name. I can’t very well shoot perfect bullseyes without any targets.”

“I understand.” Byleth nodded. She put up no resistance as Claude walked away, and showed no indication that he caught onto his lie.

He wasn’t really going to the training grounds. He instead went back to his dormitories first, to drop his stuff off, and then wandered around to see if he could spot some of his wayward Deer. Curiosity (and maybe paranoia) compelled him to snoop for what sort of presents he would get. Claude couldn't imagine that they would be as memorable as the ones he got for his previous birthdays, since the entirety of Almyra went all out for the favored prince of their king. One time, he got a toy that blew his mind (literally, it would have exploded in his face if he hadn't dropped it earlier). Another time, he received a well thought out headscarf (because it was laced with an intricate curse that would kill him slowly). Oh, and he couldn't forget his 12th birthday, when someone bequeathed him a cute pet (in the form of a deadly scorpion hidden in a pair of boots).

The point was, today's gifters were just modest students that didn't even know it was his birthday until now, so he wasn't expecting much. Which was perfectly fine. Such solace allowed Claude to relax when he couldn't actually find any Golden Deer scurrying around and looking for last minute gifts. They must undoubtedly know that he was going to try to spy on them, and sequestered themselves appropriately. Just as he was about to give up and do something else, he spotted a herd of Deer heading towards the kitchen with a great many supplies in their arms.

Bingo. As Claude noiselessly trailed behind them, he had no doubt that his Deer were going to try to make him a special birthday feast. And as much as he adored the idea of gorging himself, he held one trepidation that spurred him on in this endeavor. The Golden Deer House wasn’t as gifted in the culinary arts as the Blue Lion House or the Black Eagle House. That wasn’t to say that they were terrible. He was sure between all of them, they had enough brain cells to not accidentally give him food poisoning. Gods know he already had plenty of that in the past.

Still, someone had to make sure the kitchen didn't blow up from their efforts. As a bonus, all commotion was a show in and of itself. Claude took a seat underneath a window and behind some bushes to listen in. It took him by surprise to hear that every assembled Golden Deer was to join in the cooking and baking. Haven't they heard of the saying 'too many cooks spoil the broth'? Maybe they thought that they required all hands on deck to finish this feast in time. The noise level certainly suggested something like that. Once the preparations began in earnest, the chaos was loud enough that Claude didn’t need to eavesdrop on them like this. He could probably hear them all the way from the training grounds.

“Lysithea, that’s too much sugar!”

“Nonsense! There’s no such thing as too much sugar in a cake!”

“Yeah, but we’re not trying to rot Claude’s teeth out on his birthday.”

“Oh, Raphael, what did you do to the buns?”

“I kneaded the dough like you said!”

“No, you absolutely pulverized them! How are they supposed to rise?”

“Er, sorry?”

“Lorenz, why are you sprinkling rose petals on the pheasant?”

“These aren’t just normal rose petals! The flowers are cultivated for both beauty and taste! Such a fine addition would surely elevate this cuisine to new heights!”

“Uh huh. But shouldn’t you add them after we roast it? Otherwise they’re going to burn.”

“I know what I’m doing! An uncultured commoner such as you could never-”

“What did you just call me?!”

“Watch out! She’s got a knife!”

High pitched shrieks and the clattering of dropped objects put a smile on Claude’s face. The Golden Deer minus their leader never ceased to amaze him. He was so entertained by all the ruckus, he failed to notice someone sneaking up behind him until he heard a familiar voice.

“Are you having fun?”

“Whoa! Hey Teach!” Claude exclaimed loudly while a hand went towards a hidden knife on his belt. If he was turning 18 in Almyra, if Byleth was another assassin, this would’ve been his last birthday. He needed to be more careful than that. Once he calmed his frantic heart, he lowered his hand and curved the corners of his lips upwards in a facsimile of a smile.

“What brings you here?”

“I didn’t see you in the training grounds.”

“And you thought to find me here?”

“After I checked the library, the common room, the greenhouse, the dormitories…”

“Ah. Well, at least you got it right on your fifth guess? Sixth?”

Byleth didn’t look the slightest bit amused by his joking. Claude did wonder why she was so desperate to find him. He didn’t cause any trouble recently, at least none that would incur a visit from his teacher. She probably wasn’t here to talk about their upcoming mission, only two days away. Was she hoping to give him more birthday wishes? Nah. As kind as Byleth was, she never gave more affection than was necessary.

“So what can I do for you?”

Byleth didn’t answer at first, preferring to let silence speak for herself until she could manage a shrug. “I don’t need you for anything. I was just curious as to how you were spending your birthday.”

Huh. Now there was a response Claude didn’t expect. “I feel like I should clarify that sitting in the dirt for at least a half hour is not the traditional way Garreg Mach students celebrate their 18th birthday.”

“I’m aware.” Byleth’s eyes narrowed by an imperceptible amount. “But I have a feeling that you prefer this to a party.”

“Hey, you can’t blame a guy for enjoying this. You can even join me if you want. There’s plenty of space here.” Claude patted the ground beside him. As if on cue, the sound of a porcelain plate shattering echoed through the open window. All the hijinks these guys were getting up to provided for free and safe entertainment that couldn’t be found in birthday parties he knew. Claude wouldn’t have to worry about dying tonight, at least, not by an assassin’s hands. He had a feeling at this rate, the food would have a higher body count than some of the Knights of Seiros.

Byleth continued to be unimpressed. “You shouldn’t make fun of your classmates. They’re trying their hardest to make you happy.”

“Oh, no, I’m not ungrateful towards their efforts. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun at the same time.” Claude hastily replied. Admittedly, he thought of their shenanigans as just that. Something to amuse him while he waited for preparations of his last-minute birthday party to finish up. He never really considered that his Golden Deer might actually care for him enough to go to these lengths (and to create a catastrophic mess in the kitchen). Now that he was made aware of this fact, Claude couldn’t help but feel… guilty? That didn't feel exactly like the right word, but it was close.

The two of them regarded each other wordlessly. Byleth’s stony face conveyed no hint about what was on her mind. Claude found it frustrating that he couldn’t read her as well as the others, but hid his irritation behind a pleasant smile. He thought of cracking another joke to break the tension, but Hilda’s voice rang out with an unlikely question.

“Hey! Professor! Care to lend a hand for Claude's birthday party?”

“It would be wonderful if you could, because we could actually really use your help…” Ignatz mentioned more quietly than the twin tailed lady.

Byleth shot a stealthy glance Claude’s way. Claude formed some silent words with his lips, words that begged her to not reveal the second person in the vicinity. Byleth looked like for a moment that she wasn’t going to heed his plea, then lifted her head towards the other Golden Deer.

“I’ll gladly assist.” She said before strolling into the dining hall.

"Thanks, Professor!" Raphael's gratitude mimicked Claude's own. 

As soon as Byleth took command of the battlegrounds that was the Garreg Mach kitchen, the ruckus died down considerably. Claude couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that he was deprived of his show. Still, he guessed that he could take comfort in the fact that tonight's feast will be edible. Claude stood up, making sure to stretch his limbs away from the window, and left the Golden Deer to their own devices.

It wasn’t hard to feign surprise when Hilda summoned him to the dining hall later that evening, but Claude ended up being surprised for real when he walked into the room. Confetti flew around him, a chorus of voices wished him a very happy birthday, and a delectable smorgasbord of food laid on the table before him. He had honestly been expecting something less elaborate and more chaotic tonight. He supposed Teach did a good job whipping everyone into shape. Not that he was complaining. With the reassurance that he wouldn’t be poisoned or stabbed under her watch, Claude felt his guard slipping away as cheers dissolved into mirthful chatter around the dinner table. The Golden Deer had prepared some of his favorite dishes, Derdriu-Style Fried Pheasant and Daphnel Stew, as well an assortment of other meats, fish, and vegetables to balance out the feast. By the time he was done eating, he could hardly think about dessert, yet Lysithea brought out a birthday cake with a copious amount of frosting and lit candles on top.

Claude found himself squinting at the mountain of sugar as the young student placed it in front of him. He was perfectly aware of Fodlan’s traditional birthday cake, and all the customs that accompanied it. He partook in a few other birthday parties ever since he came here, after all. He just never imagined having a cake specifically for him. It even had his name written on it with squiggly frosting. Claude poked the cake with a fork to determine just how much of the cake was actually icing, only to have his hand slapped by Lysithea.

“Don’t eat it yet!” She scolded him. “We have to sing for you first, then you have to make a wish!”

“Wow, Lysithea. With how serious you are, I could almost believe that you still place stock in these childish rituals.”

“They aren’t childish!” Her face turned beet red at his words. “Everyone does them!”

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter if you’re turning 8 or 18 or 48. It’s all in good fun!” Hilda chimed in.

“Sure, sure. Although I stand by what I said earlier. There’s no need to serenade me or anything. Let’s just dig into this delicious cake already!”

“Geez, Claude. It almost sounds like no one ever sang at your birthday parties.”

Oh, if only Leonie knew the truth. The Golden Deer ignored his protests to belt out a nauseatingly cheerful song that made Claude blush and fidget in his seat. He wasn’t used to this sort of attention, and he was unable to suppress his sigh of relief when it was all over.

But this next part, making a wish as you blew out the cake’s candles, was just as foriegn to him as the singing. Perhaps even moreso. Claude could get why people sang. The simple act of belting your heart out with vocalizations was enough to uplift both the singer’s and listener’s spirits. However, he couldn’t make sense of how extinguishing candles was supposed to grant a wish. There wasn’t a plausible explanation in the numerous books he searched through. Not only that, would he even get a wish if he didn’t believe in this strange custom in the first place? As far as he could tell, the birthday wishes weren’t granted by the Goddess, so at least he didn’t have to worry about that.

“Claude, aren’t you going to make your wish?” Raphael boomed behind him. “The wax is going to melt all over the cake if you wait any longer!”

“Hey, you can’t rush these kinds of things.” Claude laughed back. “I gotta think of a good wish for the future of the Alliance and all that.”

“Who cares about that?” Hilda wrinkled her nose. “It’s  _ your _ birthday! Wish for what  _ you _ want!”

Huh. What did Claude want? He wanted a lot of things, things that couldn’t be accomplished by a simple birthday wish, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t let the mysterious powers behind this tradition do its things. Many dreams swirled in his head as he breathed in. Dreams of an open border, of no longer being an outsider, of ending the stupid prejudices that plagued this world. The force of such lofty ambitions snuffed out the candles’ flames, leaving behind wisps of smoke and a round of applause from onlookers.

The rest of the evening flew by with less singing and more presents, much to his delight. As expected, his gifts from the Golden Deer weren’t spectacular, with some more obviously rushed than others, but they still made him warm and fuzzy deep down inside. Hilda gave him a single gold earring with a cute deer silhouette dangling from its hook, to ‘match’ the earring he already wore. Ignatz bestowed a shiny stone of unknown origins while apologizing for his lame gift, to which Claude had to spend more time reassuring the timid archer that it was fine and he loved it. Leonie and Raphael both gave him homemade presents, a leather bag that was more patches than bag and an oddly shaped barbel respectively. Lysithea bequeathed him a book about Crests that actually seemed interesting. Marianne refused to meet his eyes as she handed him a yellow scarf with horses embroidered on its ends. Lorenz’s gift, a tin of bergamot tea, was the only one comparable in price to Byleth’s, but the smug expression he wore while passing it to Claude made the tea rank lower than other gifts he received tonight.

After the party’s end, Claude made himself look like he was going back to his room, but he instead took a detour once he was out of eyesight from everyone else. There was one more birthday tradition he wanted to follow through on tonight. Actually, Claude had several birthday traditions, but this was the only one that he could do in Garreg Mach. Cloaked in comforting darkness and watched by thousands of stars in the summer night’s sky, he made his way to a remote corner of the monastery, unoccupied by anyone or anything save for a lone pine tree. 

Back home, he wouldn’t have to do this in secret, but here, he would have a lot of explaining to do if he was caught shooting an arrow at a tree. For each member of the royal family, the Almyran royal family would construct a tall pole decorated with colorful stripes and scraps of fabric. During their birthday, the guest of honor would take a single gold-toned arrow and fire it at the pole as high and as powerfully as they could. Where and how it embedded itself in the sturdy wood would dictate the fortunes of the next year, with the best luck indicated by an arrowhead completely buried in a stripe near the top and the worst luck shown by an arrow that missed it entirely. Claude of course didn’t believe those superstitions himself, but he took comfort in how his arrowheads remained in the pole for many years. He could marvel at how much height his arrows have gained, and how they dug straight into the unforgiving structure rather than chip at it at a lackluster angle. His aim always improved upon each birthday, save for his 14th birthday when he didn’t feel well after a bout of food poisoning and missed the pole.

Claude, of course, didn’t have his past arrows to reference in Garreg Mach, but if he concentrated hard enough, he could envision where they laid. He gripped his new Killer Bow tightly as he nocked a gold colored arrow he procured especially for today. Even though he was thousands of miles away from home, even though he was surrounded by strangers instead of family and friends, his body fell into a familiar stance and his muscles moved in one swift and fluid motion to fire his arrow. The golden arrow flew like a falling star, except it didn’t really fall. The tree caught it before it even began its downward descent. Claude squinted in the darkness and found that his arrow struck the tree only a few feet from the top. That was pretty good in his opinion. The arrow for his 18th birthday flew straight and true, and it beat his 17th birthday’s arrow in height by a good margin. The only problem was that if his father was here, he would berate Claude for how it buried itself right below an outstretched branch at a slight upward angle. According to his superstitious old man, and if the branches correlated to the painted stripes of the pole back home, that sign meant that Claude’s 18th year in this world would be rife with many hardships he would have to work hard to overcome, as if he would be climbing a harsh mountain with a summit always just out of reach. 

But really, wasn’t that how his life always was? More insurmountable challenges were nothing to Claude, especially when some of them were of his own making. He didn’t believe in any of that nonsense anyway. Satisfied with how far his bow arm had brought him, Claude gave the lonely golden arrow a two-fingered salute before turning around and heading back to his room.


	2. 24th of the Blue Sea Moon, Imperial Year 1186

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am, sliding in a week and a half after Claude's birthday with a chapter that ended up longer than the first. Don't ever say I don't love this guy.
> 
> Although part of me was tempted to save this for next year...

In retrospect, maybe he should have heeded the warning of his golden arrow.

His first few days as an 18-year-old teenager, on the cusp of adulthood really, forewarned just how tumultuous this year was going to be. The Golden Deer’s mission to thwart the ‘assassination plot’ ended with a legendary sword in Teach’s possession. Claude could hardly believe it, even when he saw how it glowed in her hands and formed a whip-like shape with a single flick of her wrists. His surprise only grew when the Archbishop allowed Byleth to keep such a precious and sacred treasure.

The Sword of the Creator. A Hero’s Relic once wielded by the King of Liberation, rumored to have enough power to cleave mountains, now within his arms’ reach. For the first time since coming here, Claude felt like he was one step closer to his dreams.

Then came the ugly truth about Crest Stones and Demonic Beasts. And then there were kidnappings, mysterious illnesses that fledged into a bloody riot, the death of a beloved man, a quest for vengeance gone horribly wrong, that whole business with Teach and her new appearance, and a supposed revelation from the Goddess that spiralled into betrayal, a declaration of war from the Adrestian Empire and a former classmate, then finally the destruction of Garreg Mach and the disappearance of his professor.

His year at the Officer’s Academy was a lot for Claude to take in, but he didn’t exactly have time to reflect on them. As the heir to House Riegan, he was dragged into the roundtable’s discussion of war and the efforts to circumvent it as soon as he returned from Garreg Mach. His free time only diminished when his grandfather died, leaving him in the unenviable position of Archduke. 

It took all that he had to navigate an entire country through stormy waters. Lines were being drawn in the sand, the people grew uneasy under the looming threat of invasion, and Byleth was still missing. Claude knew that she was still out there, and sent out search parties for her or her remains whenever he had scraps of free time. But like with all his other side endeavors, his search for Byleth eventually ceased in order to converse resources.

Apparently, such a restraint didn’t apply to his next birthday, mostly because that event was organized by his friends. When Claude turned 19, all of the Golden Deer showed up in Derdriu with presents and smiling faces in tow. And was Claude ever glad to see them, after enduring with so many scowling nobles and cruel words whispered behind closed doors. He was so gracious of their arrival, Claude allowed them to throw a party in his honor, allowed them to heap mounds of frosting on their homemade birthday cake, and even allowed them to sing their dumb song. He couldn’t enjoy himself completely though, not when Byleth wasn’t here. Because of her absence, his birthday during Imperial Year 1181 was less bright, less warm, despite the fact that his friends had more time to prepare for it.

His birthdays only grew colder as time marched on. Lorenz stopped casual contact with Claude relatively quickly, citing his father’s unsaid allegiance with the Empire. Lysithea followed soon afterwards, although not willingly. Some of the other Golden Deer became unavailable for parties throughout the next years due to various reasons. Leonie, Ignatz, and Raphael had to make sure their family stayed safe. Marianne remained in Edmund to help her stepfather with administrative duties. Only Hilda really had the time and opportunity to visit Claude on a regular basis. Still, those that couldn’t meet him in person for birthdays sent apologetic letters and gifts instead. His heart was touched by their show of support and care, a far cry from when he snooped on their time in the kitchen during his 18th birthday, but he still worried about the future promised meeting at the Millenium Festival. If his friends couldn’t travel through Alliance territory to Derdriu, would they be able to cross the unforgiving Oghma Mountains to reach the ruins of a monastery now overrun with bandits?

The answer to that question was simple. The Golden Deer, and Teach(!), found a way to reunite once more, regardless of the rift that once grew between them. Claude wanted to hug them all, profusely thank them for joining him on his foolhardy quest to turn the tides of war, but he wasn’t a sentimental child anymore. He was Claude von Riegan, Archduke of the Leicester Alliance, and newly coined leader of the resistance army. So he instead schemed, commanded, and marched on, so that the trust others had placed in him would not go to waste.

And the tides of wars did change. But not without the deaths of old classmates, a fortress crumbling under the might of an almost incomprehensible weapon, and a scarlet-clad emperor kneeling before Claude and Byleth. As accustomed as he was to senseless deaths, he still averted his eyes when the professor used the Sword of the Creator cleaved the insurmountable mountain that was Edelgard.

If there was a silver lining to her death, it was that the war would finally be over, and not a day too soon. The next moon would have his birthday, and he was actually looking forward to a celebration unmarred by war. But Claude’s suffering would not end that easily. The late Hubert von Vestra left his bitter rivals a letter detailing an even greater enemy that must be defeated at any cost. Claude was left in disbelief when he read the note and directions pointing the victorious Leicester Alliance towards the base of Those Who Slither in the Dark. Not just because this shocking revelation was teetering on the verge of being unbelievable, but also because he and his friends would have to endure more deaths and hardships. Seriously, when would this terrible war come to an end?

He hoped that by the end of the Blue Sea Moon, he could wipe his bloodstained gloves off this whole mess and just  _ live _ . Maybe he can even actually live as Khalid instead of Claude, although that was probably asking for too much. For now, he continued scheming, commanding, and marching on. The weeks of the Blue Sea Moon flew by in an instant, only to come to a screeching halt seven days before he and his army were to invade Shambala. Which was coincidentally also his birthday.

Or maybe not so coincidentally. Hilda knew exactly what she was doing when she dragged Claude from his room to the tea party courtyard, now converted into a birthday party courtyard. Colorful streamers wrapped around verdant hedges, the warm glow of lanterns illuminated the area, and a poster declaring ‘Happy Birthday Claude!’ hung from the gazebo in the center of the garden. Scattered throughout the garden were tables both big and small, covered with embroidered cloth and adorned with vases with summer blooms. And in the corner of the festive space was a lumpy pile of… something. He couldn’t tell what, exactly, thanks to the blanket draped over every inch of it, but he had a good guess to its identity.

This was a considerable step up from his last birthday celebrated in Garreg Mach. It was a good choice to hold it outdoors too. The sky was a clear blue color with no threat of rain, the sun shone down brightly but not too hotly, and a gentle breeze swayed the various hanging decorations in a hypnotic manner.

Despite the change in environment, some things never changed. Like Claude was still showered with confetti when he stepped into the courtyard, and the party attendees still nearly deafened him with joyous shouts that mimicked the phrase on the poster.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLAUDE!”

“Hey, thanks guys!” Claude shouted back with a brilliant smile. “You really went all out this time, huh?”

“Of course we did!” Hilda pouted, as if he just slighted her. “This is to make up for the last few birthdays we missed!”

“But none of you missed anything. I still got letters and presents from everyone.”

“That hardly counts! Besides, Byleth missed your last five birthdays completely, so let’s just say we’re doing this for her sake too.”

Claude shot his former professor a questioning look that asked if what Hilda said was really true. She just shrugged sheepishly.

“And a party like this is good for everyone’s morale.” Ignatz piped up. “What with the war still going on after all we did.”

“Yeah! Think of this as the party we should’ve gotten after we’ve beaten Edelgard!” Leonie agreed.

“Heh. Is my birthday so insignificant that we have to roll it into another cause for celebration?”

His joke fell flat, as evident by the hush that fell upon the crowd. Claude broke the silence with a rousing laugh. “I was kidding, my friends! I’m fine with any sort of party! Come on, let’s get the ball rolling with some…”

He glanced over to the various tables around the courtyard. As pretty as they might be with their fancy tablecloths and vases, they were missing the most important part of any celebration: food. His previous birthdays already had piping hot dishes piled on all available surfaces at this point of time in the party. So what was holding it up now, during his 24th birthday?

“Wait, where’s all the food?” Claude ended up asking.

“The kitchen staff is almost done with your birthday feast.” Lorenz answered calmly. “We decided to leave the dinner preparation to the real chefs, so we wouldn't have to endure… messes."

"Hehe! Is that what you're calling our last attempt at cooking for a party?" Hilda giggled before shooting a wink at Claude. "Really, Lorenz just doesn't want to be chased by Leonie with a knife again."

"Ahhhh, good times." Leonie sighed, unabashed by the antics of her younger self. "But we also wanted to start the party before the dinner was done so we can have time for things like-”

“PRESENTS!!” Raphael’s ear-splitting bellow made everyone jump in place. After they got over their initial shock, ripples of laughter broke out among the Golden Deer.

“Presents sound good!” Hilda nodded. “But this year, we decided to spice up the gift-giving process a bit. Just for you, Leader Man.”

“Whatever you mean by that?” Claude smirked at her use of his nickname.

Hilda strolled over to the mystery mound and grabbed a corner of the blanket. “I meant… this!”

She yanked the blanket away to reveal an assortment of wrapped presents. Claude suspected that the blanket hid his gifts, but he was surprised at the variety of shapes and sizes they came in. His eyes were drawn to a large, flat, rectangular thing in particular.

“Tada! There’s one from each of us, but we’re not telling you which one is from whom! You have to guess that yourself!” Hilda crowed triumphantly.

“Ah, a game! Count me in!” Claude grinned. “But what happens if I get something wrong? Are you going to take my presents away from me?”

“Nah, we’re not that cruel.” Hilda shook her head, her pink locks and dangling earrings fluttering with the movement. “You’ll just have to live with your shame. Shaaaame.”

A few of the other Golden Deer, chiefly Leonie and Lysithea, echoed Hilda’s drawn out ‘shaaaame’. Claude, knowing that they weren’t being serious, laughed at the silliness of it all. “I’m not afraid of failure! I accept your challenge!”

“Great! So which one are you picking first?”

“Mmmm, this one.” Claude walked over and placed his hands on the first present that caught his eyes. He already mostly figured out what laid beneath the wrapping paper, thanks to its distinctive shape. Still, he glanced backwards to scan the Golden Deer’s expressions, and confirmed his theory when Ignatz broke eye contact.

He tore apart the paper to reveal a magnificent painting of Garreg Mach silhouetted against a backdrop of stars. The whimsical blues and purples of the sky, the sharp yet inviting features of the familiar monastery, and the immaculate framing of the scene could only have been created by a masterful painter. Claude took a moment to admire it a bit longer, then looked up.

“Ignatz, This is incredible! It’s like I’m looking at Garreg Mach myself! I always knew your talents were wasted on knighthood!”

“O-oh! I’m so glad that you like it, but please don’t say things like that.” Ignatz blushed and stammered. “It’s been an honor to fight for the freedom of Fodlan alongside everyone.”

“Jeez, Ignatz. When you word yourself like that, it kinda sounds like the war’s already ended.” Leonie raised an eyebrow at him.

The blush on his face grew fiercer. “I didn’t mean it like that! I know we still have lots to do, but-”

“Hey! No more war talk!” Hilda interrupted Ignatz mid-sentence. “We’re here for Claude’s birthday! Not that depressing stuff!”

With Hilda's interjection, the guessing game could continue in earnest. Some of Claude's presents were easy to figure out, like a vial of wyvern scale polishing oil from Marianne, a cute bracelet with nine differently colored deer charms from Hilda, and a hefty book of battle strategies from Lysithea. Others required a little more thought, like a bundle of dried forest mushrooms that Leonie claimed was useful for poisons, and an exquisite chess set that was infinitely more to Claude's liking than any tea Lorenz would have gotten him. Really, the only present that tripped him up was Raphael’s, and that was because he had no idea that the big guy had taken up stone carving as a hobby. He still had a lot of room for improvement, judging from the small vaguely wyvern shaped statue, but Claude adored it all the same and didn’t even mind the chorus of ‘shaaaame’ that erupted all around him.

“Hey, hold on. Do you not have a present for me, Teach?” Claude piped up once the guessing game ended without anything from Byleth. He didn’t mention her lack of a gift out of ungratefulness, far from it. He only asked because he was some parts curious and some parts worried that something else had happened.

Byleth drew closer so that only Claude could hear her. “I’ll give it to you later tonight. It’s not something I can give in public.”

“I can’t wait for it then.” Claude chuckled. If he was a more self-aware man, he would have shrank beneath the many stares during their brief exchange. But he was perfectly fine with letting the Golden Deer form conjectures by themselves. He knew Byleth well enough to know why she had to give him his gift away from prying eyes, and an explanation to the others would ruin everything.

Time passed quickly with a flurry of activity and chatter. Claude had broken out his new chessboard and started playing quick rounds against Lorenz, then Byleth. As sharp as the former’s chess skills were, Lorenz still couldn’t hope to beat Claude soundly. On the other hand, the oft-proclaimed master tactician struggled against his former professor, as if he hadn’t learned a thing from her in their academy days. Regardless of the wins and losses Claude sustained, the other partygoers huddled around the chessboard to watch the epic matches unfold. For a little while, anyway. Eventually, they grew tired and wandered off to partake in their own games. Claude elected to join his friends after another loss by Byleth’s hands, and the colorful group had a grand time engaging in more exciting activities such as shooting arrows at fruit tossed in the air. Those party tricks came to a screeching halt when Claude accidentally-on-purpose made a bunch of tomatoes explode all over everyone.

They cleaned up the red and pulpy mess right before other guests arrived at the party. Catherine, Shamir, Cyril, Hanneman, Manuela, Judith, Flayn… even Seteth showed up helping along a mostly recovered Rhea. Each of them had their own presents and well-wishes to give to Claude. He received them all graciously, including what little the archbishop had to give him. Six years ago, he might have been secretly unsettled by Rhea’s undeniably holy presence, but now he took her words for what they were: Genuine thanks for his aid, and sincere wishes for a prosperous birthday, all coming from a woman just as weary of war as he was.

All the guests stuck around a little longer for the promised feast paraded out by the monastery servants. Claude salivated at the sights and smells of colorful root vegetables resting on top of fresh leaves, tenderly baked fish swimming in savory sauces, and juicy meats still doused in sizzling oil. The biggest and grandest dish of the party, an entire boar with an apple in its mouth, had an equally large table reserved for it in the gazebo. Its roasted skin glistened from both the sweet glaze generously slathered on and the attention garnered from its central location.

Everyone dug into the food as soon as the platters were placed in front of them. Even Claude, normally cautious of meals prepared for birthdays, stuffed his face with wild abandon. He truly did appreciate the effort his former classmates put cooking for his 18th birthday party, but nothing could really compare to professionally made dishes. Luckily, his friends agreed with this sentiment, as indicated by their smiling faces stained with sauces.

That wasn’t to say the Golden Deer left all food preparation to the actual chefs. Lysithea retreated into the kitchens, only to scurry back with a giant cake in her hands. As expected, it was covered head to toe with sugary sweet frosting that was sure to be felt by Claude’s teeth. But unlike last time, she and presumably the others adorned the cake with painstakingly shaped swirls, flowers, and tiny deer that danced around its edge. Claude might have mistaken this confectionary masterpiece as someone else’s creation if it wasn’t for the ‘Happy Birthday Claude’ written in frosting and familiar handwriting.

“You know what? The same goes for you too, Lysithea.” Claude nodded towards her. “You should be baking cakes instead of blasting our enemies apart with your magic.”

“And maybe I will do just that after the war is over.” Lysithea took his comment in stride. “But for now, you have a birthday cake to eat!”

“Hey! Not before the singing and candles!” Leonie reminded everyone. 

“Oh no, not again.” Claude said in a not-so-desperate manner. As he laughed at himself, his eyes drifted towards Byleth to see if she would laugh too, and was surprised to see her regard the cake nervously. He wanted to ask her what was wrong with it, but wasn’t sure how to do that without worrying everyone else.

Except he didn't need to concern himself about that after all, because Byleth glanced up to say, “Claude, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Hm? You’re talking about eating the cake?” Claude blinked before breaking out into a smile. “On second thought, I actually agree with you. I don’t think this is a good idea for my stomach!”

He and several other guests chuckled at his joke. Byleth remained unamused, with her lips pressed into a tight line and a hand resting on her sword’s pummel. To assuage her fears, Lysithea piped up with a both encouraging and indignant tone.

“Professor, if you’re worried about my cake, don’t be. I made it myself! It’s perfectly edible and delicious!”

Byleth didn’t say anything back, but ultimately relented by sighing and dropping her hand from her sword. Now that she now longer had any objections, the strange Fodlanese birthday ritual carried on without another hitch. This time, the singing of the Golden Deer was joined by many other voices, from the operatic voice of Manuela to the sweet and gentle lilt from Flayn. Hearing them all come together for his sake was actually a bit embarrassing for Claude. It was one thing to witness their camaraderie during the din of battle, but another thing entirely for it to manifest in what was once just a silly song to him. He couldn't help but hide his blushing face in his hands to grant him one second of reprieve.

And then came the candle-blowing. For someone that didn’t believe in higher powers, Claude’s birthday wish came surprisingly easy. All he wanted was for the war to end, and for everyone gathered here to make it out of this ordeal in one piece.

He of course had no way of knowing just how soon his wish was going to be put to the test. After he blew out the candles, Claude sliced into the cake with a knife and started allocating pieces to all of his friends. For a moment, he sought Byleth’s eyes to figure out how big of a slice she wanted, only to find that she was nowhere in sight. Claude frowned as he scanned the crowd again, but there was still no sign of her.

“Hey, have you guys seen where Teach went?” He asked.

“Not a clue.” Ignatz shook his head. “Do you want us to find her?”

“I can look for her myself.” Claude replied as he set down his untouched piece of cake. That seemingly innocuous motion sent a ripple of an uproar throughout the partygoers.

“Hey, if you’re going to ditch us too, at least take a bite of your cake!” Lysithea exclaimed.

“Yeah! It’s your birthday, so you gotta have the first bite!” Raphael concurred. “Don’t leave us hanging!”

“Alright, alright!” Claude picked his plate of cake back up. He admittedly thought this whole thing about first bites was another oddity of Fodlan, but it wasn’t something he wanted to question right now. Not when so many waiting eyes were watching with anticipation.

Claude stuck his fork into the fluffy cake, broke off a bit with a dollop of frosting, and shoved it into his mouth. The sugar melted on his tongue in a pleasant way. He let out a satisfied hum of approval before swallowing. He turned to Lysithea to give her his utmost thanks, only for something vile to seize his throat, preventing both his words and his breath from escaping. His fork, plate, and the rest of the poisoned cake fell to the ground as Claude collapsed in a raspy, wheezy fit. A commotion broke out around him, but he could care less about the scene he was causing right now. He couldn’t breath. How could he have been so stupid, so naive. His vision was swimming from the lack of air. He couldn’t-

“Claude!” Marianne’s concerned voice, practically a shriek, preceded a warm touch amplified by white magic. Her healing spell relieved his throat a little, but not enough. He was only able to glance up at her gentle face and gasp out non-words.

“Don’t try to speak. Just focus on breathing.” She told him as the soft glow of healing magic continued to surround Claude’s throat. 

“What’s happening?! Did he choke on something?!” Leonie practically shouted.

“No, nothing like that.” Marianne replied. Beads of sweat accumulated on her brow. “He’s been poisoned, but it’s nothing like I’ve ever seen. Almost as if…”

"The poison is actually a curse." Manuela finished. She knelt over Claude to assist Marianne with her healing attempts.

Claude knew that already, being a maker of them and a victim of them. This thing in his throat was too fast-acting and vicious to have natural origins. It had to be magical, which made his situation all the more terrifying. If he closed his eyes and pretended that the people around him spoke Almyran, Claude could believe he was celebrating his 14th birthday instead of his 24th…

“If Claude got struck by a curse, then we have to find its caster!” Lysithea proclaimed. “Healing alone won’t save him.”

“But how?” Lorenz said in a surprisingly undignified tone. “There were too many servants in the kitchen! We can’t hope to root out the culprit in time!”

“We have no choice!” Hilda slammed her hands on the table for emphasis. “We need to find this party crasher, and fast-!”

A loud and miraculous inhale from Claude interrupted Hilda and everyone else’s chittering. All of the sudden, the horrendous glob of dark magic disappeared from his throat, allowing him to cough up the rest of the cake and breathe again. As he panted heavily to catch up on the air he missed, Marianne’s hands fell away, only to wrap around his body in a tight hug.

“Claude! You’re alright!”

“Y-yeah.” Claude gasped out. Although at this rate, Marianne was going to squeeze all the air out of him again. It didn’t help that some of the guests, namely Hilda, Raphael, and Ignatz, weren’t content with just letting out joyous cheers, and joined in on the hug.

“H-hey guys… You’re too tight…” He clawed at the many pairs of arms that entangled him.

“Oh! Sorry bout that!” Raphael yelped. Claude breathed in another wondrous gulp of air once he was free from the giant group hug.

“Although I’m entirely grateful for your sudden recovery, what exactly happened?” Lorenz glanced furtively around the disheveled courtyard for an answer.”

“No idea.” Claude shrugged. His voice was already returning to normal, making it easier to sound like an unflappable 24-year-old man instead of a frightened child. “If I had to guess, someone got to the curse’s caster just in time.”

“You guessed correctly.”

Everyone turned their heads towards Byleth, who was dragging behind her the corpse of a plain-looking man in a servant’s robes. Claude sat there in stunned silence before breaking out into laughter, much to the confusion of many.

“Teach! So is this your birthday present to me?”

“This isn’t funny, Claude. He nearly killed you.” 

And yet, she threw the would-be assassin before him, exactly as if he was a gift. Claude hurried onto his feet in order to walk over and examine him. His pale complexion and light brown hair indicated that he was probably from Fodlan. Maybe acting in retaliation against the mastermind that orchestrated the Empire’s downfall? Whatever his motives were, he somehow was relieved to see that he wasn’t from Almyra.

“Well, I’m glad that he’s gone now!” Lysithea said out loud what everyone else was thinking. “Although I would’ve liked to deal with him too, for messing with my cake!”

“Professor, how in the world did you find the source of the curse so quickly?” Ignatz said to her with wide eyes.

“He was acting very suspicious.” Byleth stated plainly, as if that answered everything.

“That may be so, but you left to go find him before Claude even took a bite of his cake! Did you know that it was cursed beforehand?”

To Ignatz’s second question, she just shrugged. Claude could tell that this conversation would not end well for her, so he stepped in before she couldn’t shrug off any more suspicions. “Well, whatever Teach did saved my life. I don’t really need an explanation for that.”

“Wow, Claude, I wish I can shrug off assassination attemps like you can. Especially ones on your birthday!” Hilda exclaimed incredulously.

“Don’t worry, Hilda, It just takes a bit of practice, that’s all.” 

Instead of putting her fears to rest, his nonchalant response only riled her and everyone else up more. Audible confusion gave way to concern as Claude was swarmed by the Golden Deer, Byleth, and other party guests.

“Claude! Are you implying that you had people trying to kill you at birthday parties before?!”

“No. I mean, yeah, but it’s not a big deal anymore-

“How is that not a big deal exactly?!”

“Like I said, it takes a bit of practice-”

“From how you’re wording yourself, it sounds like these assassination attempts persisted over a long period of time. Is that right?”

“If you count my entire childhood as ‘a long period of time’, then yeah.”

“That’s horrible! Who would want to kill a little kid?!”

“Wait, is that why you never told us when your birthday was until the day of?”

“Oh my, did Claude really do that?!”

“Yeah, Flayn. It happened before you joined us, and it’s really quite a funny story-”

“Look, guys!” Claude had to raise his voice to make himself heard. “Yes, I’ve been targeted by assassins during my birthday before, but it doesn’t bother me anymore, so don’t let it bother you.”

“Uh, sorry, but no can do, Leader Man.” Hilda rolled her eyes. “Because you almost died! If the professor hadn’t stepped in when she did…”

“I know. And I’m honestly grateful for Teach, and all you guys.” Claude said, before pausing to take a breath. He normally never said things along the lines of what he wanted to say next, but he felt it was necessary to let his heart speak for a bit. He just needed to take a moment to steel himself.

“But I’m not saying that these assassination attempts don’t bother me because they’re normal to me. What I’m trying to say is that… I know that you all are my friends. I know you guys will always have my back, and I can always feel safe even throughout birthday surprises of today and the future. More than that, I can enjoy myself during all these parties, and not because you throw the best kinds of parties. You all are so important to me, in so many ways I can’t describe…”

Claude trailed off, unsure of how to convey his gratitude any more than he already has. While everyone waited with bated breath, someone sniffled in the background.

“So just. Thank you. For everything. That’s all.”

Wow, now he felt like crying too. Claude raised his arm to wipe away a bit of moisture in his eyes, only to be caught off guard when Hilda pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Claude, you big dolt!” He sensed some weepiness in her voice too. “If that’s how you feel, then we won’t bug you about it anymore! But we still don’t want to lose you because of our carelessness!”

“Yes. As much as we’ll respect your wishes to, er, let bygones be bygones, please allow us to apologize for failing to prevent today’s assassionation plot.” Even the usually dignified Lorenz was feeling a little sentimental. “And allow us to prepare more properly in the future. For the ease of our minds, at the very least.”

“Oh, of course I won’t stop you from beefing up security if you really want.” Claude told Lorenz while still trapped in Hilda’s arms. “Even though I don’t think it’s really necessary with Teach around.”

“Claude…” Byleth sighed out as she shook her head. Claude wasn’t sure if the faint smile on her lips was a trick of the light or the genuine article.

“And if you guys care to indulge me for a while longer, I’d like to continue this party.” Claude announced as soon as he was free from Hilda. “It would be a shame to end it because someone tried to spoil our fun.”

“Yeah, I can get behind that!” Raphael cheered.

“Only, let’s not eat the rest of the cake.” Leonie pointed out.

“Ugh! I still can’t believe someone got to my cake!” Lysithea grumbled as she stared at the accursed thing. “But that just means I get to make you another one.”

“Even though we’re going to be marching on Shambala soon?” Claude smirked at her.

“ _ Especially _ since we’re going to Shambala soon!” Lysithea turned her sharp gaze back to Claude. “Who knows if I’ll get another chance otherwise?”

“Hey! Remember, no war talk!” Hilda shouted at the two of them. “Or if you do want to talk about something that depressing, you also gotta make it sappy like Claude just did.”

“Wow, is that all you got out of my speech?” Claude laughed to himself.

* * *

The rest of the party was successfully celebrated, with everyone making it out in one piece. Although not everyone made it out sound of mind, especially when the ale and wine started flowing. Claude was careful to keep his drinks in check, not because he was afraid of another poisoning, but because he had something else to do later that night. Still, he used his inebriated state to excuse himself from the party a little earlier than everyone else. After exchanging good nights and more hugs, he left his friends behind and headed back to his room.

Only to exit with a bow of twisted metal and an arrow of gold in hand. Claude glanced around to make sure no one had spotted him before heading towards a remote corner of the monastery. But apparently, his quick check didn’t catch a shadow following him until he had reached his destination.

“Huh. When you said you couldn’t give me your gift in public, I didn’t think you meant to give it to me here.” Claude said as he whirled around to face Byleth.

“Where else would you have liked? You’re the one that came here after you left the party.” Byleth shrugged. In her hands was a parcel wrapped in shiny golden wrapping paper. Claude couldn’t tell what it was based on the size and shape, but that just made the imminent unveiling more tantalizing.

“Heh. I actually don’t mind it if you’re here. I wanted to show you something after your present.” Claude waved his bow and arrow that he then rested against a rock.

“Hm? Here you go then.” Byleth handed her gift to Claude. “Happy birthday. I’m… sorry that I never made it to your last five birthdays.”

“Please, don’t say that. I know  _ I _ can't resist a long nap sometimes."

Claude’s joke fell flat, but he still took Byleth’s present from her with gusto. Greedy fingers tore the paper to shreds and lifted from the destruction a large and round pearlescent white scale with a number of leather straps attached to it. Painted on the scale was the Crest of Flames, although its shaky lines and imperfect curves was a far cry from the symbol that adorned the flags of their army.

Regardless of its obviously homemade quality, Claude still recognized the scale and straps for what they were. And to be honest, he was completely baffled on how Byleth even thought of this kind of gift. He figured that she wanted to give him this in private because it related to a secret only she knew, but he had no idea that her knowledge of his homeland’s customs extended this far.

“Do you like it?” Byleth’s normally stoic voice betrayed a hint of trepidation.

Claude couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for just staring at her present in awed silence, so he hurriedly blurted out, “Ah! Of course, I love it! Really! It’s just that… Where did you get the idea to make me an Almyran wyvernscale chestguard?”

Byleth fidgeted in place, almost pressuring Claude to take back his words, but she eventually explained herself. “I asked Nader what sort of gift would be appropriate for a man from his homeland that was once one of my students. He suggested this.”

“And I’m assuming that he also taught you how to craft this.” Claude turned the chestguard over and over to inspect its craftsmanship. Aside from the uneven paint job, everything else looked sturdy and well-made. Still, he found himself chuckling at the object in his hands. That old man Nader neglected to mention something vital to Byleth, and he wondered if he should bring it up himself.

In the end, he was forced to when Byleth narrowed her eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“Well, you had no way of knowing this, but this is the kind of gift that’s given to boys on the verge of adulthood.”

“Oh.” Byleth’s stare faltered. “But it still suits you, doesn’t it? After all, I missed the birthdays that led up to your appointment as archduke.”

“That’s true. But,” Claude gave her a sly smile. “Usually this sort of thing is only given by mothers wishing the best for their son. Or a lover wishing for a safe return.”

“... Oh.” Byleth had nothing else to add. She averted her gaze to try and hide her growing blush, but Claude caught a glimpse of it anyway.

Claude laughed again, this time in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Like I said, you had no way of knowing that! Next time I see Nader, I’ll give him a stern talking to on your behalf! Not that he’s going to listen to me, but at least I can say I tried. Unless you want me to call you mom? Or perhaps-”

His teasing was halted by a gentle shove from Byleth. He laughed at both her action and the fact that she was now looking at him again. 

Claude used his newfound attention as an excuse to strap the chestguard over his clothes. He never needed to wear any sort of chestguard while wielding a bow before, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use it for anything else. It might be able to block lucky shots to his heart at the very least. 

“Well, Teach? How does it look?” Claude gestured towards himself.

Byleth gave it a glance over, then nodded. “It looks good.”

“Well of course it does! You made it, after all. I’m actually kind of shocked that it fits me so well.”

“I had to ask the armorer for your measurements.” Byleth mentioned. “But the straps are adjustable too.”

“I can see that.” Claude brushed his hand over the smooth surface of the wyvern scale. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Byleth managed to procure the milky white thing from his personal mount. The aviary here kept shed scales from all wyverns for use in armor forging, potion making, and other applications. He found himself wondering more about her choice of insignia. Surely Nader told her that the mothers and lovers wrote their names on the scale as a way of blessing it with their protection. And, as if the name didn’t hold enough power on their own, the chestguard’s crafter would mix a bit of their blood into the paint that they drew their name with.

Did she follow those instructions to the letter? There was only one way to find out. “Hey, Teach. You know you’re also supposed to write your name on the scale, right?”

“I know.” Byleth nodded. “But I thought the Crest of Flames would fit better. It’s the emblem we’ve marched under for seven months, and the emblem we’ll use to end this war. And it also looks nicer than my name.”

“Aw, Teach, I’m sure your handwriting is perfectly fine.”

That joke elicited a smile out of the stony surface that was Byleth’s face. It made Claude’s heart jump in place.

"So did you use your actual blood for this or…?"

"I did." Byleth nodded. "That's what Nader said to do. Was there a second meaning to this that he neglected to tell me?"

"No. It is what it is." Claude found himself tracing the winding curves of the Crest of Flames absentmindedly. To think that she would so far for his birthday present...

“But seriously. Thank you for the gift. As you can imagine, I didn’t get anything like this from my mother when I became archduke, so getting my very own wyvernscale chestguard means a lot to me, as belated as it is.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it.” Byleth’s smile grew a tad wider. “But also… Do not feel obligated to wear it in public. A piece with a bold design like this might draw attention.”

“Pffft. I’m used to that by now, Teach. Or did you miss the entire assassination attempt earlier?”

Claude realized too late that maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Byleth fell silent, her smile replaced by an indifferent demeanor. She did technically leave him right before he started choking on the curse. Claude knew that she didn't disappear out of malice or neglect or anything like that though. He knew that she worked in mysterious ways in order to save lives both on and off the battlefield, and despite being nosy towards everyone else, he was perfectly fine with leaving Byleth to her own devices.

“Anyway, I want to show you what I actually came out here for.” Claude grabbed his bow and the golden arrow from its resting place. After giving his arrow a quick twirl, he pointed up at the pine tree that towered over the two of them. 

“Do you see the other golden arrow in this tree trunk? I put that there on my 18th birthday. Back home, my family would shoot arrows at a pole each birthday, as a way to measure our luck for the upcoming year. Now, I don’t personally buy into that, and the fortune-telling won’t work quite as well on a tree, but this tradition is a good way to gauge how much progress I’ve made since my last birthday.”

Byleth tilted her head upwards and squinted in the darkness. It wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to see without any moonlight shining down, but it wouldn’t matter much longer. The arrow for Claude’s 24th birthday was going to blow it out of the water.

Cyan eyes flickered back down to the earth, or to be more precise, Claude’s bow. “You’re going to use Failnaught for this?”

“Hey, tradition dictates I have to give it my all. That includes using the best weapon I got.” Claude smirked. “Here’s a fun fact. Last time, I used the Killer Bow you gave me. Let’s see how Failnaught compares to it.”

“I don’t know. This seems kind of… dangerous.” Byleth pressed a cheek against her right hand.

“Come on, it’ll be fine! I know what I’m doing!” Claude raised his Hero’s Relic and nocked the golden arrow. As soon as he pulled the bowstring back, sparks of red lightning danced across the arrow’s shaft and around his fingers. For a brief moment, he considered listening to Byleth and reigning in the power of Failnaught and his Crest, but then he figured it was too late for that. He had to give it his all, common sense be damned. Without further hesitation, Claude released his special arrow into the night sky, where it arced in a blaze of gold and crimson.

The arrow-turned-thunderbolt struck the top of the pine tree. Instead of embedding itself into the wood, the entire upper half of the tree exploded. Flaming splinters, pine needles, and bits of sap rained down around the awestruck Claude and Byleth. 

"Uh, whoops." Claude laughed nervously. His antics would undoubtedly be seen by basically everyone in the monastery, so that didn’t leave them with a lot of time to flee the scene of the crime.

"I told you it seemed dangerous." Byleth said. Despite her serious face, there was a twinge of amusement in her voice, leading Claude to believe that she didn't regard him as a complete idiot. Thankfully.

"Maybe I should've listened to you then." Claude murmured. He also should have listened to her when she warned him not to eat the cake, but he didn't care to think about that right now. 

Instead, he shrugged off that errant thought with an actual shrug and a casual remark. "But at least I definitely shot higher than last time."

"How can you tell? There's nothing left of either of your arrows." Byleth squinted at the still-smouldering tree. 

"Hmm. I just have a good feeling about it. That's all."

He didn't need to face Byleth to know that she was giving him a signature half-lidded stare.  _ Now _ she thought of him as an idiot.

Her burning gaze eventually softened as she tilted her head skywards. “You said that you can predict your luck for the next year from your arrow. So what does this mean?”

“Well, uh, destroying half of a tree or pole isn’t exactly in the guidebook.” Claude laughed again. “But if I were to hazard a guess, it means I get to make my own luck. Who cares about destiny and all that when I have a Hero’s Relic, stalwart friends, and someone like you by my side.”

“Your own luck…” Byleth mused out loud. The orange glow of the burning wreckage around them made her eyes twinkle with excitement. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah, and we’re going to need all the luck I can make if we don’t want to be interrogated.” Claude jerked his head back, towards the sounds of incoming footsteps. “Come on, let’s get out of here!”

He stuck out a hand that Byleth readily accepted. Without further ado, the two of them snuck away like a pair of thieves into the night.


End file.
